An Unlikely Union
by Fighteratheart
Summary: AU: When SHEILD puts out an arrest warrant for Clint, Natasha refuses to turn him in; but she can't resist messing with them. "At home," She said, with a small smirk, "Grieving, with his soon-to-be wife." It was a blatant lie, but he was with someone grieving. And I guess you could say they were in a relationship. Though, May would kill her if she said so. Clint x May.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Unlikely Union

 **Fandom:** Avengers  & Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D

 **Characters:** Clint Barton, Melinda May, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, Bruce Banner and mentions of Phil Coulson.

 **Genre:** Romance/Humor/Angst

 **Summary:** Two months after the Battle of New York, an arrest warrant is sent out for Agent Barton. While Natasha knew Barton couldn't hide forever, she took pleasure in the fact S.H.I.E.L.D would never figure out where he was. "At home," She said, with a small smirk, then, "Grieving, with his soon-to-be wife." It was a lie, a blatant lie, but he was with someone and they were grieving. And she supposed you could say they were in relationship. Though Agent May would kill her if she said as much.

 **Author's Notes:** Two-Shot. AU– no Barton family. May continue through out AoS series, depends on my muse.

 **Disclaimer:** No Copyright Intended.

 **Review!**

* * *

Tony was having a great day until a bucketload of S.H.I.E.L.D agents swarmed his tower, placing an agent at every possible exit. Including, some rather interesting ones he never even considered going out. He didn't run, instead he set his tools down and planned on having a very serious conversation with Fury about his definition of time off. But before he could do that he needed to dispose of the intruding agents, currently tearing up his tower in their desperate search.

There wasn't anything they could want; his tech maybe, but he wasn't going to give that up freely, and even Fury knew that. So why on Earth were they in his tower? If there was international crisis that needed to be averted they could've just called, or maybe sent an agent – one agent, not an army.

What, were they expecting he would start a war over preventing one?

Tony was enraged, not that that single word scraped the surface of the bundle of emotions he felt. They had interrupted his lab time; he had been so close to an absolutely genius idea when he was alerted of their presence. One that he couldn't work out anymore, thank you very much S.H.I.E.L.D.

He strode across his large remodeled lab in a haste when his phone began to ring. He considered ignoring it, planned on doing so, even hovered his finger over the ignore button, before JARVIS informed him of who was calling. Twisting his phone around, he pounded the answer button and shoved the device to his ear.

"You better have a damn good explanation as to why you're agents are in my tower." While he didn't know why they were inside his building, he could imagine the damage they were doing — JARVIS had painted a very good picture about what was going on when asked about it.

"Stark," Fury said over the phone.

"What do you want?"

"The council has ordered for Barton's arrested."

…

When Stark exited the elevator, he was less than pleased at the sight. Agents were poking around at his stuff, they peered inside his vents and messed with his bar. He glared at the agent in particular who touched his selection of drinks, liquor which was more expensive than him. After shouting at him to watch it, he focused on the center of the room where Natasha stood beside Steve giving the agent obviously in charge grief.

Tony couldn't say he expected anything less. This was Barton, they were talking about. Quite possibly the only person she cared about, not that Stark could honestly say he knew everything about who Romanoff socialized with and held personal feelings for. Though, he could say with certainty the group was a small one.

"He was under Loki's influence," She said with a growl. "He's a victim!"

"Agent Barton is responsible for–" Agent Wilson started to say, but Natasha cut him off, with a voice that would send most men running.

"I don't give a damn about what he's responsible for. What about the crazed Asgardian that mind controlled him and forced him into his doing his dirty work?"

Despite the fright hidden behind the agent's mask, he remained cool and composed and tried to calm Natasha down – a futile attempt. "Loki is on Asgard–"

"I know where the hell that monster is," Natasha snapped, her face inches from his.

"Okay," Steve said, stepping in between the two and holding his hands up. The last thing that they needed was for Romanoff to go off the rails and kill a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D member. "Maybe we can find a more reasonable solution to this." Natasha stepped back and snorted at that.

"The only solution," Stark said, walking over to them. "Is for you and your fellow agents to get out of my tower."

The agent let out a deep sigh, he obviously didn't want to be here – he was under orders, but from whom? "Mr. Stark, we aren't leaving here without Agent Barton and our sources says he's here."

"Your sources are wrong. We haven't seen or heard from Legolas since Agent's funeral."

Steve nodded in confirmation. Despite, having his apartment destroyed by the battle and not living on base due to his suspension, he hadn't chosen to come live with them. Barton was the only Avenger who hadn't moved in permanently. "He only stayed for a couple nights."

"Sir," An approaching agent began to say. "They're telling the truth. He's not here."

Wilson twisted to face a smug-looking Stark and then stared at Natasha who looked pleased. It was a known fact they were close – they were partners after all – and they shared secrets. There wasn't a doubt in Wilson's mind she knew where he was holed up. "Where is he?"

While Natasha knew Barton couldn't hide forever, she took pleasure in the fact S.H.I.E.L.D would never figure out where he was.

"At home," She said, with a small smirk, then, "Grieving, with his soon-to-be wife."

Both Tony and Steve turned to her, both surprised and curious about what she was doing. They weren't aware Cliny was engaged, or dating at all. Tony had done his homework and within S.H.I.E.L.D's unusually detailed section about their agent's personal life not once was a girlfriend, or fiancée mentioned.

The agent didn't hesitate in his reply, though he did quirk an eyebrow at her obvious lie. "Agent Barton isn't–"

Natasha cut him off, "They were planning on running off and eloping, but their plans were halted by the invasion. He didn't get the chance to inform the Director of his engagement."

Wilson hummed and nodded, knowing it was nothing more than a desperate excuse to try and save her partner's life. "I don't suppose you'll tell us where he and his supposed fiancée are."

She snorted.

…

Despite knowing Barton was in fact not in building, the leading agent on the case was hesitant to leave. A part was due to Barton's unfathomable abilities at hiding from S.H.I.E.L.D agents, the other being due to the lie Romanoff told and lack of evidence supporting it. But Natasha reminded him, regardless of how much evidence supported it, when any new information in a S.H.I.E.L.D case is found, the agent leading the investigation must report back to HQ for a reevaluation of the case.

The reminder sent him and his agents packing, and within ten minutes almost all the S.H.I.E.L.D agents evacuated Stark's, turned Avenger's tower. Which left only a handful of agents down in his lobby and private garage.

Once gone, Tony ran a security check to weed out any possible listeners and increased JARVIS security, while Natasha did a quick sweep through the room for any possible bugs. As she was doing one last sweep, Bruce came up through the elevator and glanced around, obviously hesitant – he had bolted when he heard of the warrant for Barton's arrest and felt the anger creep up on him. He knew staying there would result in a catastrophic event with the destruction of Tony's tower.

Stark glanced over his shoulder at the scientist and told him all clear. After finishing their sweep, Natasha and Steve strode across the room and stopped next to Bruce and she glanced at Tony expectedly. He informed her that he had kicked S.H.I.E.L.D out from his system and they were able to talk freely.

"What are we going to do about Barton?" Steve had to ask. They needed a plan if they were going to stop him from being locked up. Despite having only few and brief encounters with the man, he did consider him a member of the team and wasn't going to let S.H.I.E.L.D lock him up for being turned him into Loki's puppet.

"They won't find him," Natasha said without even a sliver of doubt in her voice.

At that Steve turned to her, curious. "When did Barton get engaged?"

"He's not," She admitted and Tony smirked at her, both at being right and her audacity to lie to S.H.I.E.L.D. He did it, but she was an agent and despite being a high-ranking member and world-class liar, he didn't expect for her to tell such a big lie. But Tony was almost certain there was nothing she wouldn't do for Barton.

"So you lied to S.H.I.E.L.D? I'm impressed Red." When Tony turned and met Bruce's confused face, he went on ahead and explained what had transpired while he was hiding.

"But Barton's not married," Bruce said. "What's S.H.I.E.L.D going to do when they realize he's not?"

"Can't be worse than what they're planning." Nothing could, but she still couldn't wrap her mind around why now they were choosing to penalize him. He had committed his fair share of crime before coming to S.H.I.E.L.D, nothing like her, but enough to serve jail time. But he worked it off by being an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D, the same deal she was given. Expect she killed more, many more.

"Where is he?"

She rose an eyebrow, knowing full well Tony had been tracking his whereabouts, both before and after S.H.I.E.L.D showed up at their doorstep looking for Barton. And knowing that he didn't know only made her more certain, S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't find him. "With a friend," Natasha finally said.

"Is this friend by chance female?" He couldn't help but be curious how she came up with 'soon-to-be married' so quickly and so easily. There had to be a reason, she obviously knew there were other choices: bastard child, mental disorder, community service– why on Earth engagement?

"Yes," She said.

"And they won't suspect he's with her? They'll be looking for his fiancée and any possible candidates–"

She chuckled at that. Nobody would suspect he's with her. "They've tried to kill each other a couple times and filed a few complaints against one another. If they suspect he's with her than either S.H.I.E.L.D's grown a brain or they've hit rock bottom."

:::

She couldn't leave. Not yet. The agents were still outside and while she could easily loose a tail, if she left too soon it would be suspicious. And it wasn't worth the risk. They could hold off on their own, and hopefully not call anybody terribly important within S.H.I.E.L.D in their drunken state. Not that she wouldn't past them. Prank calling, while childish, seemed to play into their pranking forte. And being as drunk as they were when she last saw them, they didn't have any restraint.

When her phone rung and she saw the caller ID, she couldn't help but tense. There was only two reasons this woman would be calling her so soon after they received a visit from S.H.I.E.L.D agents. And both involved Barton.

Natasha clicked answer and pressed the phone to her ear.

Once it connected, a woman's voice filled her ear, "Why do I have agents in my office telling me Barton is engaged?" Maria asked, in a way of greeting.

Her shoulders relaxed knowing he hadn't been caught. "Because he is."

"And when did he propose? Was it before or after he started sleeping with May?" The Deputy Director wasn't fooled by her lie and knew without a doubt, he wasn't engaged. She had visited him on several occasions following the battle and each time he was the same way with the same person.

"Before," Natasha replied. "They're still celebrating their engagement."

"I wasn't aware celebration called for bickering, shouting and visits from the police."

"How should I know what they like to do in bed?"

Hill rolled her eyes at that. They may be sleeping together, but they would never take it to the next step and get engaged; they would first need to figure out how to survive the first step and go on a date together.

"Fury will never buy a marriage between them. Our tech division could spot a fake certificate a mile away, even if Stark did it." Not entirely true, but with close examination as they would certainly do, they would know for a fact the marriage was falsified. And a falsified document would only incriminate him farther.

"Unless it isn't."

Maria paused at what she was insinuating; she certainly had to be mistaken. "Are you suggesting they actually get married?" There was no way either one of them would go that far for a simple cover-up, even if they decided to be married only in name. They would kill each other before they got to the alter.

"They are engaged."

…

It wasn't easy to get there.

The drive was simple. Getting rid of the tails was the hard part. A normal tail she could get rid easily, but they knew all her tricks and knew how she operated. Every time she lost one, another one appeared and then another. Finally, once out of the city she managed to lose them all. She pulled over at an insurrection after driving for several minutes and parked her car outside of a pizza parlor.

The safe house wasn't too far from here, she could easily walk. First, she entered the pizza place and ordered one. She would need something to warm them up and a bribe seemed the best way. They would smell the trick a mile away, but it would at least gain her temporary favor, which was all she needed. Departing through the back exit, she crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk to the house.

Striding up the dirt path, Natasha came up to the front door and knocked. She didn't expect a response, but she wanted to give them the warning if they were indecent. Pulling out her own personal set of keys, she unlocked the front door and pried the door open with one hand, the pizza in the other. The moment she stepped inside she was hit by the smell of sex, alcohol and pizza.

She noticed two people sitting on the couches who still hadn't noticed her. A sign they had been drinking. Sighing, Natasha set the pizza on the counter and glanced at the trash scattered across the counter. For two people who kept their individual apartments surprisingly clean and tidy, this was an absolute disaster, but they were too caught up in their own grief.

She had tried to stop them, but they had both reached their breaking point. She never understood their relationship, but they both cared for Phil and it hurt them deeply when he died, yet somehow, through that grief it brought them closer — to an unusual degree.

Finally, Clint noticed her and turned at her with an odd, drunk grin. "Hey, Nat." May twisted to face her and Clint stood up, his body swaying slightly as he walked over to her. His eyes locked on the pizza and he threw open the lid, taking out a slice.

"How are you today?" Her eyes darted between Melinda and Clint.

Melinda glanced down at the pizza, then up at her. "A bribe."

"A good bribe," Clint said, then asked. "What do you want?" She had to want something if she was coming here, though it must be important because they made it very clear last time they weren't going to listen to a word she said. Stubborn.

Natasha didn't beat around the bush. They were acting civilized, we father drunk and enjoying the bribe. Any longer and she would lose any chance she had of convincing them. "You need to get married."

May froze where she stood, her mouth slightly agape and eyes widened as she stared back at the woman. She had to be joking, trying to pull one over on them when she thought they were too drunk to believe any differently; they weren't, but nearing that point.

Next to her, Clint seemed to be thinking the same thing and suddenly he broke out laughing, only coming to a stop when he saw the dead serious look on Natasha's face. She was being serious? "Wait, are you being serious?"

"No," May said, arms crossed, not giving it a moment's thought.

She glanced between the two; she should've figured they weren't going to be drunk enough to fall for it. Perfect. "S.H.I.E.L.D thinks you're engaged."

"Well, who the hell would give them that idea?"

Natasha glared at Clint. "I did."

"Why would you do that?" Melinda knew that Natasha must've been truly desperate if she resorted to saying they, of all people, were engaged.

"To save his life." Natasga wasn't trying to convince them to go through with it, merely have them realize the situation they were in. Turning to Clint, she said, "They're going to lock you up unless you get married."

For a moment it looked as though he was going to accept her suggestion and go through with it, but she knew him better than that. Clint didn't do anything he didn't want to do, even if his own life was on the line. The man did jump off of skyscrapers recreationally– his self-preservation skills were more than questionable.

"And it has to be to her?" He asked, his voice a combination of annoyance and irritation.

"You're already sleeping together," Natasha pointed out, purposely forgetting to mention she knew it was nothing more than a coping method.

"That's sex, you're talking about marriage."

Clint nodded his head. "Mels has a point."

Natasha shook her head and muttered, "The one time you two agree." She really wished Phil was here right now, he'd be able to slap some sense into them. Or rather talk, she'd do the slapping. He had a way of inspiring people and on more than one occasion had said they had a special friendship based solely on pranking. One that fell to pieces when Bahrein happened.

Sighing, she looked at Clint. "Look, Clint, it's either marriage or lockup."

He only considered it for a while half a second. "I choose lockup." Melinda snorted, though she couldn't say she disagreed. She wasn't particularly keen on the idea of marrying Barton, even if he was Hawkeye.

"Clint!"

"Why are you so hell bent on saving me?" He asked, grabbing the beer bottle off the counter and taking a large swig. "I'm sure Mels would prefer it if I was locked up. Most of S.H.I.E.L.D would prefer it."

"Life would be easier," May said, not entirely disagreeing with his statement. There wouldn't be an idiot crawling through the vents anymore, entering through the window instead of using the door and constantly causing trouble with his daily pranks, but that didn't mean she actually wanted him locked up. She had done far worse things and those were of her own free will.

Natasha huffed, past annoyed. She couldn't save someone when they didn't want to be saved. But that didn't mean she was giving up on him – on either of them.

"I don't give a damn what S.H.I.E.L.D wants! You are my partner, Clint, you are both my friends. We just lost Phil," She said and they flinched at the mention of their dead friend. "I'm not losing you too. So unless you two geniuses find another loophole, then I expect you two to get as drunk as you need to be and meet me at the alter."

Natasha snatched her keys of the counter and strode out of the room, slamming the door on her way out. Standing side-by-side they stared at the door as an awkward silence crept over and filled the air.

"So," Clint began and turned to glance at May. "Any bright ideas?"

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I'll post the next part soon. Don't forget to review, follow and favorite!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. I meant to within a few days, but I've had a really bad migraine for a month now and my time spent on electronics has been cut short. But Chapter 2 is here and it is around the same length (Word count: 3,549).

Thank you for all the favorites and follows.

I don't own anything.

And please let me know what you think.

* * *

The car ride didn't do much to ease her tension or anger. It wasn't the first time Barton's life had been threatened. Being a notorious spy and assassin for a government agency like S.H.I.E.L.D puts you in several situations where it was do-or-die. But in those situations, at least ninety percent of the time, she'd had his back. If anything went wrong, they could count on each other to make it through that hell.

But this was different.

Even when they weren't on the same mission and he was alone on the battlefield with no one to cover his six, she could do something. Either distract herself with a mission, provide backup if need be, give advice through the comm.'s or be apart of a rescue mission, but there wasn't any backup she could provide this time. The only person who could save his life was him– she couldn't provide any assistance if he didn't want to be.

She knew leaving him with May was a risk. It wasn't that she didn't trust May, she trusted her more than other agents and even considered her a friend – something she lacked. No, the reason she knew it was risky was because there was one thing they had in common now more than ever: a questionable sense of self-worth and an uncanny ability to blame and punish themselves for their past actions. However, there wasn't anybody right now who could better understand his grief for Phil, his resentment for himself and the guilt that flooded him than her.

That didn't mean she thought they would actually get married. She was counting on them finding a loophole, as they always did. There was nothing that inspired two people more than the desire to find a better, more liked option.

Sighing, she let her head relax against the headrest while she parked the car and got out. As she walked over to the private elevator, she took notice of the two agents standing guard. They still hadn't moved post, which was actually a good thing, since that meant Agent Wilson wasn't back from reevaluating the case. As she waited for the elevator to arrive, she heard ringing coming her phone and she slipped it out and then pressed it to her ear.

"Romanoff."

"I figured you'd want an update on the case," Maria said.

Natasha rose an eyebrow and entered the Stark-style elevator, that unsurprisingly looked as luxurious as the rest of the hose. "Isn't that against S.H.I.E.L.D protocol?"

The Deputy Director snorted over the phone and Natasha glanced at the security camera in the corner as the elevator began its trek to the top floors.

"So is lying to a senior agent."

"What's the update?"

"Barton being engaged isn't going to stop the Council from taking action."

She figured as much, it had started out as nothing more than a distraction to buy some time. Time she planned on using on creating a plan, but she still didn't have a solid one yet.

"What about marriage?" It was worth a shot to ask, she expected the same answer, but Natasha was desperate. And Natasha was _never_ desperate.

Hill sighed over the phone. "Marriage isn't much different. You bought him time, but the council is looking for someone to blame."

"And a mind-controlled agent is the easiest." Especially when the agent didn't care about his life. If he was in his right mind he would fight this to the end, but he wasn't. And it wasn't that she believed Loki still had a hold on him, she was certain he didn't. If Loki did, he wouldn't be in solitude grieving the loss of a man Loki killed.

No, this was his own choice.

…

He avoided the subject for as long as possible, which seeing as she wanted to talk about it just as much as he did wasn't difficult. They went back to the couches and started on a bottle of liquor, the proposal fresh in their mind, not that it was actually a proposal. More like an ultimatum, either they had to put their brains together and come up with an idea, or suck it up and get married.

He didn't want to get married for three simple reasons: one, it was May; two, it wouldn't work; and three it was _May_.

He doubted she wanted to either. Despite their current relationship – if you could even call it a relationship – they were nothing more than friends. Two friends which had been brought together by one man, a man that was now dead. Except for the daily pranks done together – which no longer occurred – Coulson was what held them together.

Not S.H.I.E.L.D, not the missions they liaised on, not even Nat. It had been Phil, who introduced them, kept them in check and covered for them on more than one occasion.

Just thinking about it – him – caused a sharp, painful reminder that he wasn't there. And wouldn't be able to help settle their arguments, find compromises, or be the best man at his wedding – if he got married, he corrected. That was still up for debate.

Guzzling his drink, he turned over to May, who looked to be thinking about his dilemma also. He wasn't joking when he said May would honestly prefer for him to be in lockup, he was certain she would, which is why he was more than certain she wouldn't agree. But instead of focusing on it and trying to find a solution, he let his mind drift.

"You know, Natasha won't let you give up," Melinda said, breaking the silence between them.

"I'm not," He told her and she resisted an unladylike snort.

"You can't drink away this problem."

"That's rich coming from you."

She paused, briefly, knowing exactly what he was referring and he wasn't wrong; she didn't have much room to talk. But she had been there, different situation, but same self-loathing. And four years later and she was still dealing with it.

…

After dropping her stuff off on her floor, she entered the main gathering room where Stark was in conversation with Steve, undoubtedly about this Clint situation. Waltzing over to them, Natasha stood next to Steve as Tony turned to face her.

"Romanoff, where have you been?"

"Trying to get Clint married," She replied with ease and Steve turned to her surprised at her response. He expected her to take a more traditional route, like appealing to the council, or even talking to Fury; not marrying him off.

"He's actually getting married?" As much as Steve wanted Barton to be free and clear – it wasn't the man he was in control of his actions – he couldn't say he approved of the solution Natasha came up with. Especially when he knew very little about this woman, and from what he did know, a healthy relationship was questionable at best. Trying to kill each other wasn't exactly a good basis for a marriage, but if he was already sleeping with her… marrying her would be doing right by her.

Natasha shook her head, knowing full well the answer, even without Clint telling her. "Clint's going to do what he wants. And he doesn't want to get married, at least not to her. He'll come up with different alternative and try to find a solution that doesn't involve marriage."

"Tricking him into finding a loophole." Tony nodded in approval.

 _If only it was that easy._

Originally, Natasha had thought she could simply trick him into finding a loophole. She knew he was more than capable of doing so, and she had anticipated some pull back – she actually welcomed it, but what she didn't expect, and had hoped he would shake off was his self-loathing.

It wasn't an easy task, and for some people, it took years to overcome, but she, alongside Clint, Phil and Maria, managed to save May from herself. Now she was counting on the woman to return the favor.

…

He couldn't come with a single loophole to his situation, not that he actually even tried. There wasn't a reason to; he deserved whatever S.H.I.E.L.D threw at him. Whether it be death, or life in prison. He killed fellow S.H.I.E.L.D agents, came close to killing Natasha and he was responsible for his mentor's death. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D managed to forgive him, he couldn't forgive himself.

He didn't think about the marriage proposal– it wasn't going to happen. There isn't enough alcohol in the world for that. While he cared for May, she was strictly a friend _with a few added benefits_ , but only for the time being. Eventually, not that he saw it happening anytime soon, they would sober up and agree to put this whole fluke behind them.

He took another sip from his bottle and trained eyes on the blank wall, his head falling back in defeat. "How long do you think until S.H.I.E.L.D finds us?"

Melinda turned to him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "No," She told him with as much austerity as she could muster and he twisted yo face her, his face one or surprise. "You're not turning yourself in."

Clint merely shrugged, she had been right about his thoughts, he did consider turning himself, but her disapproval didn't change his train of thoughts. There wasn't a point in drawing it out, either way he would end up in S.H.I.E.L.D's prison condemned to whatever torture they choose. Not that there was any torture they could concoct that was worse than the guilt he deserved to feel.

"They're going to find me anyway, might as well speed up the time."

She knew exactly what was going through his mind, that desire to be punished– she felt it and still to this day did it surface in her mind. And it took many people to convince her to stop her from doing suicide missions.

"Natasha will continue to distract them till she finds a way out."

Clint snorted. "And how's that working out for her, huh?"

"His death isn't your fault."

"I thought you didn't do pep talks." It was something about her he had come to greatly accept in the past six weeks. She didn't try and convince him he was wrong and cheer him up. Instead, she just joined him in his grieving.

Sighing, Melinda said, "You're just being stupid."

She had expected him to retort with some snide comment, turn it back on her, or hell even shout. What she didn't expect, and what made her pause, was when he leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. "I can't forgive myself."

"You're going to have to."

He didn't turn to glance at her, or retort with a scornful comment, instead he simply asked, with nothing except for curiosity defeat in his voice, "Have you?"

Melinda shook her head, slightly, choosing not to lie to give him hope. "No."

"I got nothing, Mels."

"Me either."

Clint turned to her and met her eyes – the ones that once held a spark of life – and after a moment, he came to a conclusion. "Wait it out then."

…

She considered leaving. She needed to talk to Clint, that was far more important than any meeting. It wasn't like there was a mission, or the meeting would drawl any real benefit. It would be a chance for an update on the situation with Clint, but if she was that desperate to know she could have Stark hack in. She didn't need to meet, yet she did.

If Maria choose to meet in person when she was swarmed with paperwork at S.H.I.E.L.D, then things must've taken a turn for the worse, and skipping the appointment could only make it worse. Before her stay at S.H.I.E.L.D was strictly based on Clint, if this occurred back when she was still new to S.H.I.E.L.D she would be killed without a doubt. But she made a name for herself within S.H.I.E.L.D and now it was her turn to save him.

She owed him.

Natasha glanced up from her coffee when she saw Maria Hill enter and lock eyes with her. Walking over, she took a seat in the booth across from her and laid her hands on the table.

"I see you got my message."

"Have they found Clint?"

"No," Maria said and sighed. "But I can't keep hiding where he is. I know he's at the safe house."

She figured she would, after all Maria had visited him and knew well enough Natasha wouldn't move him from the only secure location. There wasn't a safe house standing S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know about– that being the only exception.

Natasha leaned back in the seat, knowing for now Clint was alright. "They can't lock him up."

"They won't," Maria said and Natasha glanced at her. Sighing, Maria leaned forward to explain. "Fury negotiated with the council. He can keep his life, but his position within S.H.I.E.L.D is under consideration."

"By under consideration you mean he doesn't have one."

"He did try and bring the Helicarrier down," Maria said, not needing to remind her.

"Under Loki's influence."

"I know. That's why he is suspended for the time being. In a year he will have a reevaluation with a psychologist and they will decide if he is can return or not. But he has to have an evaluation." They both knew that was next to impossible. The one time they got him into medical after the battle was for a few minutes and he left within two minutes of arriving. If he was in his apartment, S.H.I.E.L.D would've dragged him back. But with him hiding out they couldn't.

Natasha let out a relieved breath. "He'll be free."

"Natasha, wait," She said and the redhead glanced up at the Deputy Director. "You told a senior agent Clint was engaged. They're expecting a fiancée."

"Or they'll accuse him of having me cover for him."

"Yes. Or you can confess–" Maria shook her head, having already thought through all the viable options. "Nothing can prevent the punishment."

…

They had only left the house a handful of times since first locking themselves away. The first reason was to get more liquor as they went through far more than what was considered healthy in the course of a single week. Then again, there were two of them, so their normal supply had to be doubled.

The second time was to go to the bar. They had only gone one time in the duration of their grieving and that was directly after the funeral. Unlike all the other attendees of the funeral, instead of attending the reception Stark had pulled together, they hit the bar. It was easier than listening to a bunch of teary-eyed agents go on about how great an agent he was when they hardly knew him. Melinda and Clint knew how good an agent he was, they had been by his side through most, if not all, or his journey through S.H.I.E.L.D..

Only they missed his final moments. She did, because she abandoned her partner when the field got too rough and pushed him, along with everyone else, away. But he pushed back and fought his way in, yet she didn't fight her way to stay at his side.

"And Nat said _I_ had a problem."

Melinda glanced up from her almost-empty glass, an eyebrow raised and stared at him. "You have many."

Clint snorted, he wasn't _entirely_ disagreeing, but…she made a habit of deflecting. "You're self-loathing."

"I've only had two drinks," She said as an explanation and then proceeded to finish her second. She wasn't drunk, at least not yet, she fully planned on changing that situation. And had they not ran out of liquor as early as they had, she had no doubt she would already be.

He smirked at that. "Then another." Clint waved his hand at the bartender and ordered a round of shots. At the rate he was going, he would be the first drunk, though she would be a close second. As any previous restraint that kept her from consuming enough to lower her guard was gone.

"This is a bad idea," She had said, yet when the shot glasses arrived in front of them, they each took one and downed it.

Setting the shot glass down, Clint turned to her with a slight shrug. "We'll make the same mistake here as we do at home. At least here we'll be drunk."

And what he didn't mention, nor did he have to, is that by being drunk, they wouldn't have to deal with the one thing they had avoided since they begin their 'relationship'— feelings, both related to one another and their deceased friend.

…

Whenever her phone rang at two in the morning, it was never good.

Typically, it meant a S.H.I.E.L.D mission, or Clint simply being bored. However, the last time it was the police holding two very drunk S.H.I.E.L.D agents involved in a bar fight that put quite a few civilians in the hospital. They had since been kept away from the bar for civilian's safety— nothing could be said for their own.

Answering it, she hoped the world didn't need saving, nor did Barton. S.H.I.E.L.D's charges maybe been dropped against him, but nothing could be said for the local police if he was arrested. While state prisons were much kinder in comparison to S.H.I.E.L.D's, if S.H.I.E.L.D caught wind of any assault charges filed against him, he would without a doubt be back where he started.

"Hey, Nat!" He shouted through the phone, sounding far too chipper for her liking and she winced. Natasha leaned over in the bed to reach her nightstand and she checked the time on the clock.

"Clint, it's two-thirty. Why are you calling?" He better not of got arrested, she wasn't in the mood to go down to the precinct and bail him out.

"We ran out of booze," Clint said as a way of explaining.

Natasha sighed and asked, "Did you kill Melinda?" While a part of her was joking, her voice was serious; it wasn't as if she hadn't considered the possibility one of them would kill each other. Their guards were low enough and they could easily push the other over the edge as they were already standing on it. Just one wrong word and they could snap.

"No! Why would you assume that?" To her surprise, he sounded shocked and actually offended; maybe he was sober.

"Do you really want me to answer that? Anyway, if you didn't kill her, why are you calling? I'm not going to a store to buy you more liquor at two in the morning."

"No, Mels and I already went to the bar." She sighed again having a feeling of where this was going. "Then we went to the chapel."

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell agape at his words that innocent enough held much a bigger truth. _What the hell?_ She was expecting arrest, not marriage. _Never_ marriage. She had to search his voice for any sign of deceit, counting on this being some sort of prank of his. They after all were good pranksters and this was the longest Clint had gone without pulling one and she couldn't remember the last time May pulled one. They were due.

But his voice held nothing except for honesty and solemnity. He was telling the truth and she had to tighten the grip on her phone to keep it from falling from her hand and to the floor.

When she proposed marriage, she never expected them to actually go through with it. It was nothing more than a motivator and cover. Even when she learned he needed a fiancée, she simply planned to explain herself and accept the punishment. She was never going to go to them and request that they forget any resentment they held for one another and get hitched.

Well, crap. This was going to bite her in the ass in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So I am planning on continuing this. I'll probably do some time jumps since this is partial compliant and I am following the first and most of second season of AoS. As I am, I should warn you, I know nothing of Las Vegas-style drunk weddings. I did some research, but it won't be as accurate as if I actually got married through one. So bare with me.

Also, I changed the genre (again), romance will come, but later. They're still dealing with a lot of crap and grieving.

No copyright intended.

* * *

It wasn't a world crisis per say, so it didn't justify waking up the deputy director at three in the morning, but it was without a doubt a crisis and the world _technically_ could be involved. And since she couldn't call the dead or the ones who caused this situation she was limited to Maria.

Hill picked up the phone by the third ring and by the end of minute two she had explained the entire situation, yet as the third minute approached she still hadn't received a response. Only silence. A long, awkward silence that never seemed to end. For a brief moment Natasha briefly considered she fell asleep. It was still early and had she not got the shock of her life, she probably would be asleep as well. However, due to the fact she started the conversation quite loudly (since once the shock wore off her fury set in) and began a slight, possibly unreasonable rant, that she doubted anybody could've fallen asleep listening to.

But she was woken up at _two-thirty_ by her _best_ friend calling to tell her _by phone_ he got **_married_** to her _friend_ without inviting her all before she managed to get her morning coffee. Even with her morning coffee she wasn't any happier, though it stopped her ranting much to Hill's relief and after a moment she heard the woman chuckle. "You're joking, right?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow, despite knowing the other woman couldn't see her. "You think I would joke about this?"

"You did joke about them getting married."

"I wasn't actually planning on them getting married."

"Well, you put the thought in their mind," Maria said.

The redhead sighed, the very same thought having crossed her mind more times than she would like to admit. They never would've even considered marriage if she hadn't brought it up, though she doubted much thought went into it regardless. While Maria was wrong about them killing each other before reaching the alter, she doubted they would actually survive being a married couple.

Deep down, she believed they shared a level appreciation and care for one another. After being friends for long they had to, if not care, then respect. Maybe not as agents, but at least as pranksters, as they couldn't come together to pull pranks if they disapproved of the others' methods. But without pranking, she was going to have a hell of time trying to get them to figure this out.

"Where are they now?" She asked.

"In their apartment, probably sleeping off their hangover. I'm headed over there now."

"You got four hours, maybe five before they find the certificate and piece it together. Then I'll have Fury calling me about why May just married Barton."

Four hours was plenty of time. Natasha could figure out an explanation by then. She would just need to get them up before then to brief them, cure whatever hangover they had and clean up the apartment as guests were to be expected. Oh, and make sure they didn't kill each other.

Easy.

…

Clint woke to light peeking through the blinds and a warm body lying next to him. He wasn't in the slightest bit surprised – it wasn't the first time it had happened and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But what he was surprised about, what made him wonder if he was trapped in some horrible nightmare was the ring on his finger. In fairness, his head was pounding and the room was spinning a little bit too fast, his vision could be screwed up as well.

But no matter how many times he blinked his eyes it didn't disappear. _Shit_ , was the only word that ran through his mind and he groaned, already having a horrible feeling about where this was going.

He remembered going to the bar and ordering drink after drink, but everything after the four drink was a blur. Normally he wouldn't be this concerned, he either had Natasha or May to keep him from doing stupid things, but there was a ring on his finger and from the look on her face she was just as concerned. And May never was concerned.

The door opened and he squinted his eyes as light found its way inside and past the redhead who stood in the doorway, arms crossed looking at the pair. He wiped his eyes, confused about why she would be here at– _was it seven in the morning? What was he doing up so early?_

"Nat?"

"Get up," Natasha said, her tone holding residue anger and Clint wondered what he did in his drunken state to infuriate her. She was upset at him beforehand, but it had been several days, either she would've cooled off or ignored him for a few more days, not woke him up at seven in the morning. "You can finish celebrating your marriage later."

His eyes widened, having hoped it was nothing more than a horrible nightmare or hallucination, obviously it wasn't a hallucination; he was still hoping it was a nightmare he would soon wake from. But glancing over at May she seemed just as displeased.

"You've got to be kidding me," She said and Clint looked at Natasha hopeful, praying it was payback of some sort, or motivation of some kind. It had to be a joke because even with all the alcohol in the world he would shoot himself in the knee before he could marry her.

"No. Maria just called me to tell me the tech division found the marriage certificate and right now are trying to prove its authenticity."

That gave him hope. "Then it could still be fake."

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. "And why would it be? S.H.I.E.L.D may think you would fake a marriage to get out of punishment, but to you being fake married is the same as being actually married. Now get dressed, we need to talk about the cover story, Mr. and Mrs. Barton."

Melinda cringed when she heard _'Mrs. Barton'_ and glanced over at him. "We're getting a divorce."

"Agreed."

…

Fury got his fair share of surprises in S.H.I.E.L.D. Demigod from another world, billionaire in a flying metal suit, scientist turned green rage monster from an experiment gone wrong, a Russian assassin who's kill count was higher than a large percent of his agents combined and an archer from the circus. And some of those weren't even amongst his biggest surprises, so when he learned Romanoff covered for Barton by saying he was engagement he didn't even bat an eyelash.

He let it slide. There was no reason to incriminate one of his best agents till the council made their judgment. He was already going to lose his second best most likely, though, he managed to spare him so it was only for a short period of time. As much of a pain in the ass Barton could be, he was a good agent who never missed his mark. He was worth the risk; the Council disagreed though.

But that was all depended on him having a fiancée which he knew he didn't have. Or at least he thought he didn't.

In all of Fury's years, after all the surprises Barton had thrown his ways, he didn't think the man could ever surprise him again. He had pulled probably every prank in the book, even some in that weren't, but this – _this_ was one thing Fury never expected. He hadn't crossed off the possibility he would find someone to be his fiancée, though he had doubted he would go to such lengths. But he did cross off possibility – he didn't even consider it one – that he would actually _marry_ someone and that someone would be Melinda May.

There was no way she would agree to it. But they confirmed the authenticity of the certificate and damn, _somehow_ , he wasn't sure how, Agent May was married to Clint Barton.

Fury shook his head in utter disbelief, the first time in a long time. He needed to talk to Hill, she would deny it, but she knew something. And out of the options he had – human lie detector, thought-to-be dead comatose agent or agent that worked directly under him – he chose the one he had the _most_ control over.

…

Natasha pushed the two different cups forward and Clint accepted his coffee, taking it in his hand and taking a sip, while glancing around the spotless apartment. It definitely looked different from how he remembered when they exited the night before. Nat did a serious job cleaning up and he figured since she did that _and_ made him coffee she wanted something.

She was upset, that was obvious. And his memories were slowly coming back in pieces. He drank a lot last night, that was clear, but what made last night different from the rest? They got married after a lot of drinking, which surprisingly hadn't happened to him yet. They went to the same bar…and thinking about it, the first time they went to that bar they ended up sleeping together. He probably should find a new bar, or they stop going out together as that seemed to never end well for them.

Clint arched an eyebrow as he glanced down at the glass and rose it to his nose to get a whiff. "You're acting nice. Why? Did you poison it?"

"If I wanted you dead, I would leave you to S.H.I.E.L.D," Natasha said and glanced over at May who was sipping her tea. "Now the cover…"

He cut her off, before she could explain the cover she drew up. "We're getting a divorce, we don't need a cover."

"A divorce?" She repeated, staring back at Clint, then over to May who seemed to be in agreement. The redhead shook her head; honestly, why is it that every time they decide to agree it is against her plan? "Clint, S.H.I.E.L.D is expecting you to have a fiancée; you decided to get married so you need to stay married if they're ever to believe you had a fiancée."

"And that fiancée–" He chuckled. "–is Mels?"

Natasha sighed, wishing they had more time so they could get over their hangover. Reasoning with a hungover Clint wasn't easy, in fact, it was damn near impossible. You had to have a lot of experience – and successful ones that is – reasoning with him sober, which very few did. "You're hungover."

"Yes, because we got married drunk," Clint said, then winced when he thought about what he said. " _Damn_ , I married Mels." May rolled her eyes, though she didn't like the thought much more. Even if she could say she was drunk. _Very, very_ drunk.

"Well, what did you two come up with?"

"We decided to wait it out."

Natasha stared back at them, eyes narrowed, praying they were joking. Their opportunity may've passed, but she hoped they weren't that far gone. "I left you alone for five days and the best you two masterminds could come up with was wait it out?"

Clint shrugged. "Your option was marriage."

"Because I didn't think you'd actually go for it and I figured you would be desperate to find an alternative. I guess I was wrong on both of those."

"You tricked us," Melinda said, leaning back in her chair, knowing full well the intent behind her ploy.

Natasha didn't look in the least bit ashamed, if anything she was looking a little red. "He was giving up; I wasn't going to let that happen."

"You made that decision beforehand," He told her.

She snorted. "I thought you would be open, that you would jump at the chance to pull one over on S.H.I.E.L.D like every other time."

"Well, this isn't like every other time!" Clint exclaimed and it took everything for the two women to not flinch at his tone. "Phil is _dead_ , Nat. Loki killed him. He isn't covering for us anymore." He pushed himself off his chair and disappeared down the hall, leaving his still full cup of coffee on the table.

…

Maria wasn't at all surprised when he barged into her office less than five minutes after their techs confirmed the marriage certificate. If anything, it was a bit longer than she expected; the techs must've spent a couple extra minutes trying to gather up courage to see the boss. There weren't many reasons they did, typically a secretary or the case officer delivered it. But with it only being seven, agents were still rolling in.

The director came to a halt at her desk and stared down at her with his one good eye, paper in hand, though she already knew what the paper said. They called her upon confirming it per her request, despite having already been told it was real. The prospect was just so far out there, true, they did deal with the bizarre, but still that was work. This matter you could say was personal and she tried to keep her personal life as normal, or at least as normal as one could have when her friends consisted of psychotic assassins and insane spies.

Despite Clint and May being her friends, she had a job to do and she had to at least act like she was trying to get Barton locked away. If not, eyebrows would surely be raised and in a spy agency, eyebrows quickly turned into questions.

"Sir."

"May and Barton?"

Maria's shoulders slumped, mustering as much surprise as she could, which wasn't too hard. "Don't believe it either."

Fury took a step forward and leant froward in a way that was meant to intimidate, but she wasn't in the least bit so. "Hill, we both know there's no fiancée. Now tell me, why the hell would May marry Barton?"

She snorted because she had no idea either. She knew they were drunk. Natasha told her that, but still. "I have no clue. Why would _he_ marry _her_?"

…

An awkward silence lapped over the pair following Clint's erupt exit. Neither of them jumped up to run after him, instead let the tension settle between them. Melinda was still processing his words; Phil was dead. She knew that, tried to deny it, but with the alcohol making its way out of her body, slowly getting out of the haze she'd been stuck in the past couple of months, she realized just how true his words were.

Phil wasn't covering for them anymore. She may not of been a problem the past four years, but they sure caused plenty of mayhem over the past twenty years and with every issue they caused Phil had their back. They had to figure out how to fix this one without him.

She twisted back around with a deep sigh and glanced up at Natasha. Without her saying anything, she knew something was on her mind. She leaned back against the counter and narrowed her gaze on the woman. "Clint gave up, but he wasn't the only one."

May tensed slightly, unnoticeable to most, it was slight, but it didn't get past the spy. Last time a reproach – after a few failed attempts – managed to make her see sense. Maybe another talk would help, if not her, maybe she would carry on the message. Though she figured she had a better chance at getting May to understand than Clint; at least after his exit.

"He's right," Natasha said. "Phil's dead and if we're going to figure out a way out of this mess, we need to work together. The three of us. And Stark will help, so will Steve and Bruce."

She wasn't as stunned as one would assume she would be. Melinda knew there wasn't much a team wouldn't do for their teammates, even if they were narcissistic billionaires like Tony Stark.

"But Mel, what do you want to do?" That question caught her by surprise and it showed. "I won't force you, but I need to know because Fury will be calling soon; you, most likely."

And that she didn't know; the one person who could help answer it was dead.

…

She didn't have to watch where he went to know where he ended up. There weren't that many rooms in the house and despite his ability to find hiding spots in the least likely spots, she doubted he would disappear to them. He wanted to be alone and there was one room in the apartment that hadn't been entered since the battle: Phil's.

It wasn't necessarily his, they all shared the apartments and with sharing it, they shared the bedrooms too, but as this apartment began as just hers and Phil's they each had a bedroom. Over the years as their team grew, the apartment turned into a place they could just escape to. Somehow they managed to make it work with the two bedrooms and couches.

There was something about that room that had always made it feel like Phil's and she knew he felt the same. It was the reason they avoided entering it for so long, because as she took a step inside she was met with a feeling of emptiness despite the room still being full of the stuff he left behind.

She wasn't standing there long before he noticed a presence, despite her quiet approach. "Nat, I'm not–" He began, but she cut him off mid-sentence.

"Not Nat."

Clint's head snapped up at the sound of her voice and he whipped around to face her, nearly giving himself whiplash. She crossed her arms over her chest, not moving from the doorway. "Mels," He said, surprised, but his tone quickly changed. "What do you want?"

She sighed upon hearing his tone, there was something about it that made her drop her arms and let them fall to her side. "I figured we should talk."

Talk. They weren't particularly good at talking, at least not about anything deep or pressing. They could argue, arguing was easy and most of the time it got their point across. But actually having a conversation about what had been going on between them – and while sober – was near impossible.

"About…"

She snorted and pushed herself off of the wall. Melinda knew he knew what they needed to talk about. He may act like a child running around with a bow part of the time, but he wasn't that dense. He honestly didn't want to talk about it. She didn't either and if she could, she wouldn't, but they had to.

"You know what." She gave him a look.

"There's nothing to talk about," He said, then shrugged "It happened, we were drunk, it's over now."

He was right about them being drunk, had they not been it would've never happened, but this was nowhere near over. Even if they did get a divorce, they would always have these past two months and a marriage too; how long it lasted or how it happened aside. While they denied it, they couldn't just forget about it; they weren't two strangers who only met the night before– they'd known each other for over twenty years. This would change their relationship, divorce or not, possibly more than the death of their dear friend.

"It's not over."

Clint sighed and glanced down at his hands. She paused when she noticed he hadn't taken the ring off; after his reaction, she figured that probably would've been the first thing to do, but for some reason it was still there. It made no sense. At least no logical sense and Melinda frowned. She took a few steps forward, before her hand reaching the comforter and she took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping a good eighteen inches between them.

"Phil's dead, Mels," He said, glancing up, shaking his head.

She swallowed and nodded. "I know."

"What do you think he'd want us to do?"

She knew the answer, she didn't have to put much thought into it having already done so beforehand when she asked herself the very same question. But that didn't help her with answering it; there was a difference between knowing and actually saying it. Because once she said it, there was no going back.

"For you to stop blaming yourself. Then do what it takes to save you."

"Mels, I'm not–"

She cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say. "Stop being an idiot and go talk to Natasha before I kill you myself."

He pushed himself up and off the bed, then turned to her with a smirk. "Can't kill your husband."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: No copyright intended.

* * *

She knew the conversation had to happen, but that didn't mean waiting for it to be over was easy. S.H.I.E.L.D would be calling any minute about the this unlikely union and she would need an answer. Natasha already had the answer planned and the cover to back it up, but as much as she wanted to save Clint, she also didn't want to force him into something he didn't want. Which is why she spent the entire time waiting coming up with a way to make this option appealing.

Not having a fiancée was bad, but with a confession and an interrogation under Fury's special lie detector which she may or may not of faked losing to, Clint could be free and clear. This was a different and far worse problem. There was no way a divorce could happen without the entire story falling apart. Nothing she said would change how they interpreted it. Unless she figured out a way to fake a divorce that would fool two of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D ever had, but keep everyone else in S.H.I.E.L.D believing they were married.

When she heard light footsteps, her head snapped up, surprised. She expected Melinda to come down first, but instead it was Clint. He took a seat at the table in front of his cold coffee, but instead of picking it up, he looked up at her and waited.

Natasha didn't let him start. If he did, she would have no hope in convincing him. "Clint, it's not just your ass on the line. I may've started the lie, but you were the one who married Melinda. Drunk, I know, but that doesn't matter to S.H.I.E.L.D. They think you have a fiancée and now you have a wife. If you get a divorce, it won't just be you being punished, Melinda and I will too."

It was a gamble, but it was one she was willing to take. Even in this state and his complicated history with both her and May, nobody who knew him well could deny he cared for them. He saved her life versus killing her and stuck by May's side through Bahrein. Would he outright say it…probably not. As open as he was, he never would openly say he cared for May. She couldn't say she was much better with feelings.

None of them really excelled in that area.

"Nat–"

"One year," She told him; that's all that was needed. By then he would have his evaluation, be back in S.H.I.E.L.D and this would all be put behind them. "You can do what you want during it. Ignore each other if it makes it bearable, but when S.H.I.E.L.D is watching act like any other married couple would."

"They're always watching," Clint pointed out. Even if they weren't before, they would know. Just searching for when he slipped up so they could lock him away. There were plenty of agents who hated him for what he did.

"You know places where they can't." They literally lived on those places. "Or you can just deal with it. You don't have to go on dates, cook for each other–"

"Wasn't planning on it."

Natasha narrowed her eyes."You don't even have to sleep together. You can sleep with who you want. But you need to act the part till that second eval to clear you for duty." She glanced up and over his head over to the hallway where May stood. "Agree?"

Clint whipped around at the question that was clearly not directed towards him and upon catching sight of the other woman in the room he crossed his arms over his chest. "Private conversation. No eavesdropping."

Melinda rolled her eyes at the remark and walked across the room to the table and took a seat next to him. He gave her a look at the closeness, which she ignored as the other seat Natasha occupied.

"Just think of it as an undercover mission," Natasha said, then turned to the archer. "You love undercover, Clint."

"I _hate_ undercover."

That was no secret; whenever undercover ops came up, it was her and Clint. May only went when they had no other option. And this was one of those times, but since she could back up, she had to at least make it look appealing. Or rather, make the alternative look unappealing. "Would you prefer to think of it as an actual marriage?"

May sighed at the question, then asked. "What's our cover?"

Clint grinned, slightly. "A secret affair? Office romance? Old flame?"

The redhead rolled her eyes at his questions (Clint _really_ liked undercover) and said, "Simple." Though nothing was ever simple, but she tried her best to keep it to the basics. If she made it too complicated or elaborate they would either laugh at it or refuse to do it, neither of which solved the problem. So she made the simplest – and truest – cover without making it look sloppy or a complete and utterly ridiculous lie.

"You've been friends for twenty years and one night you went out for drinks at a bar and realized there was more between you. Your relationship developed from there and the night before you left for your solo mission you proposed. You took vacation the last two months to plan the wedding. But one night after a long, stressful day of planning you decided to elope."

Neither commented on how close to the truth that actually was. Everyone knew the closer to the truth it was, the easier it was to sell, especially when you had two people who weren't all for selling it. The fact S.H.I.E.L.D already knew half of their story didn't help matters and you could only stray too much without it looking like you were just making stuff up, which they were basically doing.

"How did I propose?"

"Horribly," Melinda said, from beside him.

Clint shrugged with a half-grin. He was enjoying this, at least the part that annoyed her. "Well, apparently you said yes, so it couldn't of been that bad."

"I must've been drugged."

"You still married me," Clint pointed out, grinning.

Melinda merely rolled her eyes at his response.

He glanced down at the ring that now rested on his finger and twirled it; the added weight felt odd. "Hey, can I get a different ring?"

"No," Natasha said without any hesitation.

Clint looked up at her, arms crossed. "Why not? It's mine."

"Because I said no."

The archer rose an eyebrow and asked, "What if I break it?" He then slipped the ring off and held it up so she could see. "It is cheap."

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned to Melinda, smirking slightly as she realized something. "He's _your_ problem now."

May glanced over at Clint, then with a sigh, she turned to Natasha. "Is it too late to change my mind?"

"Hey, do you think shooting it would break it?"

The redhead nodded. "Yes. Best of luck."

"Do you think shooting _him_ would work?"

…

All heads snapped up when the phone rang and like Natasha had anticipated it was May's phone that rang. She walked over to where the phone was and glanced down at it before picking it up. The caller ID showed the person they expected, but also feared. While Melinda didn't fear him, not even in the least bit, she knew it would be more than difficult to convince him. Even if for once evidence did back them up.

To S.H.I.E.L.D the certificate was nothing more than a piece of paper. Which, in truth, it was. But it was what they said and did to back it up that mattered. They could lie all they wanted, but if Fury thought back hard enough to all those squabbles and to what she said shortly after Bahrein their story could easily fall apart. And they would all be reprimanded with the severest punishment.

She hoped her long history with Clint was going to work in their favor instead of against it, though it was doubtful. As large as that file of their 'extracurricular' activities was, nowhere mentioned was a reproach in regards fraternization. In any other case, it would've been a huge strike against them, probably another reason to get them kicked out, but in this situation it could be a reason to keep them.

Natasha watched as Melinda clicked the answer button, her eyes never leaving her as she brought the phone to her ear. "Hello."

"Agent May," Fury said, his voice filling her ear.

"Fury."

He didn't bother yelling at her, much to her surprise. She figured the first thing he would do was demand answers, yet he said simply, his voice as stern as always, "Meet me in my office in two hours."

She murmured out an agreement before hanging up, not bothering to add anything more as the certificate alone had done enough damage. Trying to apologize or argue, would only anger him further. And while it could be amusing it to see such, there were some times where doing as much was a really, _really_ bad idea.

When she set the phone back down on the counter, Natasha turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Fury?"

May nodded. "We got to get this cover story down."

…

When Clint said he liked undercover all those years ago, he meant it. They were one of his favorite mission types, that and getting to shoot people he absolutely despised. But the part he didn't mention and assumed Natasha understood was he hated the preparation. He liked the improvisation part of it all; coming up with a story in the blink of an eye and trying to blend into their surroundings doing whatever it took.

This wasn't that. It was one of those pre-planned covers he actively avoided and always tossed out the window when he was given one he couldn't get out of. They just weren't nearly as fun, especially when Natasha spent an hour drilling you over an event that never happened and you really didn't _want_ to happen. And when she wasn't telling him some fake history between them, she was reminding him about what occurred last night, or rather this morning, between him and Melinda.

Clint groaned for the third time that hour and collapsed back in his chair, running a hand over his head. "Why are you going over this with me and not her? She's the one going to meet the boss."

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him, then twisted around to face May who was sitting in a chair across from them, watching the scene. "Melinda, what happened?"

"Clint and I went drinking, dated, he proposed and I stupidly agreed to marry him."

Clint frowned at her response and sat up, twisting over to face Natasha. "If she stupidly agreed, can I stupidly of proposed?"

"Will it get you to shut up?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"Then sure," Natasha replied with a slight roll of her eyes. "Now let's go over this cover again. They need to match. Now it was the 24th of March…"

…

If there was one good thing about May leaving it was that Natasha stopped drilling him. It seemed with her going to see the director and him still here, there wasn't much of a point for him to still be coached on the story. She would probably do it again when she returned and every day after, but for now he enjoyed the silence.

Or as much silence as he could get with Natasha talking in the background. She hadn't left, he figured it was because she didn't trust him to be on his own. Even with Melinda when drunk, she was still a better person to be with them all alone.

After a moment. The talking stopped and she said goodbye, before setting it down on the counter. He craned his neck around to face her and she glanced up.

"Who was that?"

"Stark," Natasha said, walking over to him and taking a seat beside him. "He said congratulations on your nuptials and Steve wished you a long and happy marriage."

Clint snorted at both the long and happy part. "He knows it'll be only year and we'll be drunk for most of it, right?"

 _Only if they could act like they wanted to be married and then could get divorced without getting his potion revoked,_ Natasha thought, but she knew well enough that wasn't what he needed to hear. So instead, she said, "A year from when you go in for your psych-eval."

He sat up, both eyebrows raised as he stared at her in complete confusion. " _Psych_ -eval?"

"I told you this," Natasha said.

"No, you didn't. Why the hell do I have to get a psych-eval?"

Natasha stared at him disbelieving, _was he seriously asking her that?_ If not because of how he'd been spending the past two months, then what happened before New York. He wasn't oblivious to what he was doing, or had done, no matter what he may say or do. "Because a deranged god from another world played with your mind."

His head snapped up at the mention; she may not of said the name, but the description made it clear who and what she was referring to. Neither of which he wanted to remember. "I don't need you to remind me of that."

"Then get a damn eval, so you can become goddamn agent again and get the damn divorce you want so badly."

Clint stared back at her for a long moment and she waited there for a minute for a response that never came. And with a huff, she stood up, walking back over to her phone to see if Melinda had seen Fury yet. If he didn't believe them, then Clint getting an evaluation may not matter.

 _None_ of it would matter.

…

It had been a while since May had stepped foot inside Fury's office. Four years, to be exact.

Four years since she transferred to admin.

Four years since Bahrein.

She knew there would be a time in which she would come back to his office, but never did she expect under such circumstances. Neither marriage, or marriage to Barton. When divorced Andrew that was to be the last relationship, yet she now wore a ring on her finger that clearly stated he was not her last relationship.

And the worst part about that is Fury knew that. He may think Clint was a good asset, but he could only piss the council off so much and from what she heard he infuriated them in New York.

He glanced up at her entrance and May shut the door softly, walking to where he stood behind the desk. A file was in his hands and Melinda could only guess what was in it and pray it wasn't as incriminating as she imagined; she doubted they would be that lucky.

"Anything you want to say, Agent May?"

She considered the question for a few second, before shaking her head and slumping her shoulders. A relaxed look that very few could hold in the presence of the director. "We've always been close."

"I know," Fury said, holding up the file, then tossing it back onto the desk where a stack of papers sat. "I have a record of yours and Barton's _closeness_."

May shrugged in response, knowing exactly what he was referring to. It was what landed them in his office every week four years ago. "Then you shouldn't be that surprised."

"I also have a record of the damages from your revenge against one another," He replied and she tensed. This was what she'd been dreading.

Their long history coming back to bite them in the ass. At the time it had been nothing more than fun and games. They knew it was against the rules, knew there were consequences, but it didn't take long to realize they wouldn't be fired, so they continued on, their pranks being more creative. She never imagined when it did end up coming back to haunt her it would be in this way. She had considered it would get them kicked out, but not after all these years and certainly not because it made it seem like she couldn't be married to Barton.

Though Melinda still did find the whole arrangement a bit hard to swallow.

"We weren't together then."

Fury arched an eyebrow at her, curious. "And you are now?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

Nick stared at her for a long moment, studying her features, before turning with a slight nod. Melinda frowned as he rounded the desk, picking up a case file that from the looks of it was Clint's and opened it. She arched an eyebrow, curious about what he was doing, but instead of making a mark about the marriage being fake, or calling someone, he simply glanced up and said.

"You can leave."

"You're leaving it alone?"

"Think of it as a favor." She arched an eyebrow at that, that didn't sound like him. "Or a wedding present, if you please." But when it was clear that was all, she turned to leave. He wasn't one you should over stay your welcome with.

"And May," Fury said, causing her to come to a halt. "When the time comes I expect a favor in return."

Melinda turned around to face him, her face studying his. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"In time," He said as he couldn't tell her about him just yet in case he didn't pull through. But if the Guest House worked and Phil Coulson did survive, he would be sure to ask how the hell he managed to keep those two in check and the very nature of their _relationship_.

* * *

Please Review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the late update. I've been busy with the holidays. I may post an edited and longer version soon.

No copyright intended.

* * *

~ July 16, 2012 ~

Melinda spent most, if not all of the trip back to the apartment replaying what Fury said. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful for him not reporting on the obvious lie. She was more than, but he did so with an intent. A need for her services in the near future. But even he knew there was no way he could get her in the field and it would be futile to try.

However, he said favor. And he typically specified what he wanted, ordering people to do it, instead of doing a favor for them so they would turn around and help him. It wasn't his style. Sighing and pulling her shades off, she unlocked the front door and entered the apartment.

To her surprise, it was quiet and only one person occupied it versus the two who had when she left not too long ago. She walked over to the couch, dropping her stuff off on the counter along the counter and collapsing in the seat beside him. When she sat down, he turned to her as did she and upon seeing the drink in his hand, she rose an eyebrow.

"What'd she do?" It had to be bad if he scoured the kitchen for liquor after they deemed they were out.

"Turns out I have to get a psych-eval," Clint said with an irritated huff, then held out the bottle for her. "Fury any better?"

With one glance, she grabbed it from his hand and took a sip, letting her shoulders relax as seh did so. She leant back in the chair and craned her neck at him. "He didn't buy it, but he's not going to report it."

He frowned upon hearing the senseless news. "Why not?"

"He wants something."

"Mels, you could've just kicked his ass."

Melinda arched an eyebrow. "Are you that desperate to get out of your psych-eval?"

"How was yours?"

She brought the bottle back to her lips and tilted her head, purposefully ignoring the question. She wasn't going to lie to him about it being great. After mind control, deceit and betrayal were the last things he needed. But she couldn't be honest as he would never go if she told him her opinion on her session as they were very different and dependent on who the person the session was for and who was doing the session.

Leaning back in his chair, Clint snatched the bottle back. "Wonderful. And you were married to a shrink."

Melinda rolled her eyes at his response. "I wasn't talking to Andrew." They did talk and he did try and be a therapist to her, but S.H.I.E.L.D didn't have him perform her psych-eval as it was against regulations.

He snorted and turned to her smirking. "You didn't talk at all, did you?"

She shrugged. "You don't have to. Just be there."

"Nat said to just make up shit. All I have to do is appear in my right mind."

"Then you shouldn't be drinking," She said, grabbing the bottle from his hand before he could react.

He gave her a look. "I never said I was actually going. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't know where we are, but once I leave they will. So give me the bottle back."

"How'd you even get it?" May asked once the bottle was back in his hand and he was sipping it.

Clint rose a curious eyebrow. "Do you care?"

She shrugged.

…

~ July 20, 2012 ~

Tony looked up from the tablet when he saw the Russian pass him. She must've just got back from her mission with Cap, which meant she would be looking for an update. If she hadn't already been updated by her other sources, whoever that may be. He knew she had to have someone, while she just knew some things, she had to have a source within S.H.I.E.L.D. He just happened to be another.

"Hey, Romanoff. How'd the mission go?"

Natasha turned to him and shrugged slightly. "The targets were neutralized."

He nodded and leant back in his chair. "Well, as you asked so kindly, I've been keeping up with Barton's case with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"And by keeping up you mean hacked S.H.I.E.L.D?" She asked, although she could careless about his tactics. Natasha, after all, did ask him to keep her updated on the case and knew full well at the time he would hack S.H.I.E.L.D to do so.

"You lied to them," Tony retorted.

The redhead crossed her arms and then took a few quiet steps over to him. "Was there a change?"

He glanced up, setting the tablet down as he did so. Tony knew her well enough to know she wouldn't take this news well and it was best his equipment didn't get injured as a result of Barton's stupidity. "No."

"No?" She repeated, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline as she pinned him with a look. It was meant not to only intimidate, but to check if he was lying. She hoped for Barton's sake he was.

He shook his head. "Nope. Nada. At least not since two days ago; the wedding investigation has been dropped, but–"

Natasha snorted."He hasn't got his eval done yet."

"Bingo."

"Идиот," She muttered. (Idiot)

Tony watched as she spun on her heel and left the room in a haste. As she disappeared down the hall and out of sight, he called after her, "I'll assume that's Russian for thank you."

…

When Natasha entered the apartment she was expecting to find a repeat of what she had every time previous. While things may've changed and they may be married, they didn't want to be; they weren't just going to suddenly change their ways. However, when she entered she was surprised to see they had. At least slightly, but that slight change looked major. The apartment was a bit cleaner, the room was a little brighter and neither of them looked like drunkards.

Clint looked up upon hearing her slam the door shut, but instead of grinning, he just sat up straight beside Melinda. "Nat."

"At least you aren't drunk," She said, taking a few steps forwards.

He looked up at her expectingly as nowadays she only came here bearing news or threats. Clint was curious which one it was this time. "What brings you here?"

"Your eval." Natasha crossed her arms and rose an eyebrow at him. "What'd the psychologist say?"

He grinned. "Come back in a year. Guess then I'll have my follow-up."

After hearing his response, Natasha narrowed her eyes. She should've predicted such a response, in fact she did, she only hoped he'd be smart enough to tell the truth. "You have to have a first appointment to have a follow-up."

"Mels said it sucked." Clint shrugged, not bothering to lie again as she already knew he ditched the appointment.

She sighed and turned to the brunette, annoyed. "You really don't do pep talks." Sometimes being open and blunt could work, but sometimes you needed a different approach and with Clint– you always needed a different approach.

"Never said I did," May replied. "The only way to get Clint to that office is to drag him by his hands and feet."

Upon hearing the suggestion, Clint threw his hands up in the air and took a step quickly back from either woman. Giving them each a lethal look as a warning if they dared to cross him. "That's not an option. I'll take on both of you if I have to. And I know all of Mels' weak spots now. So it's a fair fight. Well, fairer."

Taking note of his supposed upper hand, Natasha smirked, knowing exactly how he would've learned about her 'weak spots'. "So you've been celebrating your marriage."

He crossed his arms. "Well, apparently we have a year to do so."

"Not if you don't go to your psych-eval."

"None of the psychologists like me." It was a futile and desperate attempt, but it was a valid point. On many occasions had S.H.I.E.L.D tried to drag them all down for a meeting with a shrink and every time they managed to do something to the psychologist. Clint made three cry, Natasha emotional scarred four and after making one go insane from silence, May married the second. Still, they didn't give up hope and kept finding more people to replace the old.

Natasha took a step forward, glaring at him as she said. "If you aren't at the next scheduled meeting with the psychologist I will sign you both up for couple's counseling where you can spend the day discussing your martial problems and how to survive a year of marriage without drinking, arguing or being a pain in my ass."

Clint arched an eyebrow, then being curious, he begin to ask, "If you haven't got me to my psych-eval–"

Her gaze intensified and had he not grown immune to her lethal looks, he would've run scared like every other grown man when she glares daggers at them. "I will lock you both in a room with both Tony and Steve who will take turns coaching you on their definition of a normal relationship. Just remember, Steve's stuck in 1940s tradition and Tony is apologizing to Pepper every other week, so take your pick."

He pursed his lips, considering his options. He wasn't really fond of the idea of going to couple's counseling with Mels. They may not be an actual couple, but they were still friends and he wasn't big on the prospect of Tony and Steve picking apart his relationship with her. Even if it meant them saying they were unfit to be married.

He may not like being married to her, but their relationship was theirs and nobody else's.

…

When Tony agreed to helping Barton, he did not agree to this. His services included: hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D, blowing up buildings, defeating alien demi-gods also known as Loki, creating tech, annoying Fury in some way and being a genius, along with a lot of other things he not listed.

But nowhere on the list of his services is couple's counseling or any sort of counseling, because Tony Stark did not do counseling. Offer advice from time-to-time, sure, but not actually sit down for a set period of time and coach people on something.

"You did what now?" Tony asked, turning to the redhead, eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline as he tried to comprehend what the assassin just said. She had to be insane, she just had to be. Because she'd be foolish to have seriously considered doing that, especially if what he read on her was true.

"He's not that stubborn," Natasha said, shaking her head, still trying to make sense of his puzzling stubbornness. "Melinda, maybe, but she's not the one going."

"But why sign us up for a day with Barton and his wife for their fake marriage problems?" Therapist were paid good money to waste their day listening to other poeple's problems, why were they supposed to waste their time listening to their fake issues.

"The marriage is fake," She told him. "Their problems aren't."

Steve frowned. "Wouldn't couple's counseling be a good thing then?"

"From what I read on this woman, no," Tony said, causing an arched eyebrow from Natasha, but he went on to explain before she could ask what exactly he read. He was already in S.H.I.E.L.D serves and had the marriage certificate so he could've easily found her profile, but her profile had some details she may not want read. "She's got a lot of history with Barton, they seem close, but there's a lot of tension it seems."

"What happened? Something obviously did, I saw a case file…" Steve asked, having accidentally looked at it briefly as he was trying to get a Stark to stop digging into her.

"Bahrein," Natasha said after a moment. "They had their problems before, but it wasn't the same after Bahrein. They were still close, but I don't know if it wasn't for Phil and I if they still would be. They couldn't understand each other anymore, at least Clint couldn't. He struggled. The person he was friends with could revial him in pranks, would break rules with him at any given moment, but after…she was essentially a different person. And Clint didn't know how to be friends with this different person."

…

~ July 23, 2012 ~

The words were barely out of his mouth before she cut him off, giving him a stern glare and placing a hand on either hip, daring him to continue speaking.

"No. You already pushed your eval back a week. Not another."

Clint looked up. "One more day, Nat."

Natasha rose an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Today it's at noon, would your prefer tomorrow at six?"

"At night?" He frowned. "I guess, it's a little–"

"In the morning, idiot. Melinda?"

The woman slapped him and he groaned, rubbing the area.

Natasha smirked, while turning to the Asian woman. "Enjoying the perks of being married to him?"

"I don't think mistreating your husband is part of marriage. If so, then I get to slap her."

"Physiologist, now. I'll drive you."

He let out a defeated sigh, knowing he didn't have any other choice. "Fine, but if I kill the shrink, it's on you."

Natasha dropped her arms and swiped her keys off the counter and turned, motioning for him to follow.

…

There were only two things that made the appointment bearable. One, it was only forty-five minutes and, two, he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to. She probably wouldn't clear him for anything, not unless she wanted too, but Natasha wasn't specific about what he had to do. Her last instructions to him were to be there for the entire appointment, she may've said to lie and say whatever it took to be cleared, but it was only a suggestion.

He looked up at the clock once again, wondering how much more time he had to wait out, before redirecting his attention. He was about to close his eyes when he heard a noise. Clint glanced up at the woman sitting across from him in a chair, a clipboard in her lap and her hair tied back.

"The clock isn't going to move any faster. We still have fifteen more minutes. And if we don't talk I can't clear you," Dr. Holmes said.

"Great observation. Where'd you get your degree?"

"Harvard. They briefed me on your situation and I read your file. I know you have a habit of scaring off psychologists, but I don't scare that easily. I also read your history with Agent May."

"What does our history have to do with anything?"

"You're married, are you not?" Her eyebrows posed a question.

"Yes. But what does my marriage have to do with the investigation?"

"You were married shortly after it happened and nobody knew about it."

Clint arched an eyebrow and leant back. "You're starting to sound like an interrogator. I thought this was a psych-eval."

"You can't be around S.H.I.E.L.D and not pick up a few tricks. You two have been friends for a long time," Holmes noted.

He nodded. "Twenty-three years."

"How'd you meet?"

"Phil introduced Mels and I."

"Mels?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's her name." He shrugged. "She's my Mels."

Holmes nodded and scribbled something on the paper, then asked. "Why'd you start calling her Mels? Were you dating, or…"

"Phil introduced us and Melinda didn't suit her."

She nodded again and joyed something down, before glancing up. "After twenty years of friendship, why would you suddenly want to risk it?"

"It wasn't sudden."

"Still. If she didn't feel the same way, your friendship would've changed drastically."

"What? You want me to say I harbored secret feelings for her for twenty years? That once they divorced because she mentally couldn't handle being with anyone I moved in on her?" He chuckled. "Sure, go ahead and write that down. Excuse me." Without another word, he pushed himself out of his chair and exited the room in a haste, slamming the door on his way out.

She sighed and shook her head on his way out, her hand hovering over the paper as she debated what to write down. As much as he thought that didn't say anything about their relationship, it said more than enough. While he may not have been secretly in love with her for twenty years, he certainly did care for her. And care could be defined as love in some eyes, maybe not in the romantic light, but certainly platonic.

However, she wasn't here to determine if they're relationship was real or not. Just give her opinion and with that reaction she wasn't entirely sure what opinion that was.

* * *

Please Review! Thanks. I think you'll enjoy the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: No copyright intended.

* * *

When Clint entered through the house ahead of Natasha and disappeared, she knew something had gone wrong. She never expected the evaluation to go well, nor did she expect him to come back from it in a good mood, but she did expect, or rather hope he wouldn't be in such a mood. Melinda looked up at Natasha, expectingly, but she said nothing right away.

It was clear from the look on her face, she was annoyed with Clint, but she was also confused. May understood why, his behavior was erratic and so unlike him. This went past grief and guilt, or resentment over a forced hand. There was something else, something unknown that was making him act out.

Once the archer was gone, Melinda finally asked the question that had been prodding her mind since the door slammed shut. "What happened?"

"Clint left the appointment before it was finished. He only had a couple minutes left." Natasha shook her head in confusion, hands on her hips. He was the one puzzle she couldn't figure out and it never ceased to annoy her. She looked back up at May, hoping she knew something she didn't. "What is going on with him? Why is he being so stubborn?"

The Asian woman paused at her question, having assumed she figured it out by now. Natasha wasn't stupid, given the time and information she would've easily pieced it together. Seeing as she had the time and even an amateur could come to the same conclusion, it was clear she was never given the information.

May arched an eyebrow in surprise. "He never told you?" When she went through the order of people Clint would tell his secrets too, Natasha was right at the top, then Phil and then her. Not her first.

"Why he's being so stubborn?" She snorted. "No. I've yet to figure out the mystery that is Clint."

She rolled her eyes slightly; she doubted anyone would figure out that mystery, but they were taking it one mystery at a time. Starting with the one involving the information she only just recently learned. In any other scenario, she wouldn't tell her. Not telling anyone was part of a secret, but Natasha needed to know and with everything he had told her– this was one of the lesser damaging secrets of the group.

"Clint never wanted to be S.H.I.E.L.D."

Natasha frowned as her eyes unconsciously widened. "What? No, Clint said when he recruited me–" She remembered the day, it was the day he was supposed to kill her, but made a different call. He told her a lot of different stuff, trying to get her to join and save her life, including how great S.H.I.E.L.D was and his recruitment.

Melinda shook her head. "Fury sent many people to bring him in, but nobody could. Finally, he sent Phil in. He was the one who managed to talk him into joining."

A small breath escaped her and she let her eyes fall closed as everything became clear. She always knew he was close with Phil, looked up to him and considered him family. And was just reacting as if he lost a member of his family…she never realized the exact story behind his reaction. This was more than Loki playing with his brain, them being close, or even the marriage.

"It was more than feeling guilt for what he did. Clint didn't want to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent with Phil gone. Why didn't he tell me?"

She shrugged, honestly not knowing. She would've figured that was something he used in his speech to get her to join S.H.I.E.L.D, or trust Phil when she first arrived. "He didn't tell me either till a few weeks ago. I had my suspicions, but wasn't sure."

Turning to the hall in which he had retreated down, Natasha let a sad expression wash over her face. She could pretend all she wanted, but if these past weeks had shown her anything, this wasn't a problem she could fix. Nothing was going to fix it. They just had to figure out a way to move on, whatever way that was. Getting there though, was going to be difficult, if not next to impossible, but right now they were beating the odds, if not redefining them.

"He's never going to be the same."

"Phil was a brother to him."

"Threatening him won't work. Let's try it your way."

Melinda turned to her at her idea, but didn't comment. She wasn't wrong, threatening him wouldn't work, instead it would only drive him further away and right now they couldn't afford that.

May was married to him, effectively changing their relationship forever– whether it was for the better or worse they still weren't sure. Maria was Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, working to capture and punish him. And Phil, the one person who hadn't done anything, was now gone.

They needed Natasha to at least salvage their relationship because with every threat a wedge was driven between them. And right now, a Clint needed a friend, one who wasn't trying to get him locked up or was bound to him for life.

"The second bedroom's open, so is the couch."

A small smile graced her lips and she nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

It wasn't till dinner that Natasha realized just how much things had changed. When she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D Natasha remembered getting together with Clint, Melinda and Phil frequently. They would have drinks after missions, grab a bite to eat and over the years the amount of gatherings just grew in numbers to the point they were basically living together. When she wasn't with Clint, she was with May or Coulson.

They made a good team and were great friends, then Bahrein hit and that's when they fell apart. She left the field and they lost a fourth of their team. They adapted, of course, always tried to include her, but everything changed from that point on. Phil shifted to become their handler, Clint and she went on to become their own team and their get-togethers decreased in numbers.

But it wasn't the time that made her realize what changed, it was the preparation. There had always been a reason why Coulson avoided leaving the three of them alone in a kitchen and it wasn't because he didn't want to miss their wonderful cooking instruction.

Looking up at May, Natasha asked. "Who wants to go find him?"

She rose an eyebrow, then crossed her arms, knowing exactly what that entitled. "I may be married to him, but I'm not eating _his_ food."

The redhead smirked, knowingly. Meal time was always the most interesting time around them, which is why they settled for take out most times when Phil wasn't around. "Did he make you try his breakfast combo?"

"Last person who did that was sick on the couch a week." Natasha did remember that day – clearly, having made a vow that day, never to touch his breakfast.

But Melinda remembered it with a fondness, one that couldn't be easily explained. After he accused her of poisoning him, she couldn't help but smirk when only a few weeks later somebody ended up on the couch complaining he poisoned them after eating his food. From that day on they were very picky about which food of each other's they choose to eat. And we're always cautious to watch it– it wasn't that they didn't trust each other, it was more like a game.

A game that had begun when they started messing with Phil's cooking when he wasn't looking, by throwing in seasonings that made the food bitter sweet, flaming hot or sour to the bone. They each had their own flavoring they used which identified it as a creation of their own. Sometimes they were edible and other times you just passed it to Clint who liked it regardless of the flavor. As far as they were concerned he had no taste buds.

"Who was sick?" Clint asked, entering the room and causing the two women to turn and face him. From his posture they could tell he had calmed down and shrugged off whatever happened during the visit.

"Maria when she ate whatever you call that thing you make for breakfast," Natasha replied, pushing her elbows off the kitchen counter and straightening her spine.

"You mean cereal?" He asked with a frown, walking over to where they were standing across from each other.

She nodded. "Yep."

"Wait," The archer paused, looking between the two, a feeling of why they were talking about his cooking failure. There was only one reason why they would ever stand in the kitchen. "Does this mean we're having dinner?"

"You're not cooking," Melinda told him matter-of-factually.

"You can't either; you gave me food poisoning," He replied, arms crossed.

She didn't deny it, there was no point. They could argue about it all they wanted, but ultimately he'd ask the redhead for a final ruling and she'd give it. She already got him on getting Maria sick– they were even. But she still met his gaze, giving him the look that said 'you can't either'.

Twisting around and away from her, Clint looked at Natasha, choosing wisely not to disagree on that. He would when they flipped the stove on. But before he could do that he had to figure out what was going on with the redhead. She hadn't left yet and there had to be a reason. One that he couldn't imagine being good with everything going on.

Either they were busted, or she was going to lecture him and drag him back to another appointment. Considering how her lectures and his appointment went, he was rooting for being busted. He would have to deal with interrogation, processing and face whatever punishment they saw fit, but an interrogation was better than a S.H.I.E.L.D 'therapy' session. They didn't want to know his true mental state, they already figured that out during their first evaluation, they just wanted to know if he actually gave a damn about the person he drunkenly married.

And he wasn't sure what she wanted out of all of it. Whatever it was, he planned to find out. She was a tough nut to crack, but he cracked her before, he could figure her out again. "If we're having dinner, why are you still here? Shouldn't you be at the tower?" His tone was unintentionally critical, although he didn't bother to correct himself, or apologize for it.

She pressed her lips in a thin line at his voice, knowing full well she had done some things she needed to make up for. "I figured I'd stay the week."

Looking at her suspiciously, Clint asked, "Trying to couch us on how to be a normal couple?"

"No, how to be a better friend." He arched an eyebrow, surprised at her words and Natasha sighed. "Clint, I know you and Melinda are never going to be a normal married couple. You two could never be normal friends."

"Thanks," He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I just want you to do what's going to keep you alive. If that means spending a week here with my two friends and their messed up relationship–"

"Which you messed up more."

Natasha glared at him and with a quick move of her hand, May smacked his shoulder, causing a slight smile to grace the redhead's lips, while he grimaced. "Thank you, Mel."

He rubbed his arm, looking up at her. "So, one week?"

"One _normal_ week. No S.H.I.E.L.D, no nothing."

"Deal. Now who's cooking?"

* * *

When it came to watching movies, it was next to impossible to choose. While their taste was relatively similar, they were all harshly critical of the other's choices. They never were shy about their disapproval, which typically led to hour-long debates over who's movie was better. By the end of it when one of them was shoving a movie in after a deal (and threat on occasion) had been made, it would've taken just as long to watch the two movies they narrowed it down to.

Tearing upon the package, Natasha emptied the freshly popped corn into the bowl and turned away from the counter, swiping it off as she walked. Entering the living room, she looked over at the couple – or rather pair – sitting on the couch, as she nearly lost her head for calling them a 'couple'. Even if _technically_ they were a couple.

Coming to a halt at the couch, she kicked Clint's foot and waited for the intended response. As expected, his head snapped up and he looked at her expectingly, wondering what she wanted. "Move." He arched an eyebrow, so she took a seat in the gap of the couch, pushing him over on the couch to where May was seated.

Then Melinda shoved him back over and after a final shove from Natasha, he settled back against the couch, really hating being stuck in the middle of two women. At least _these_ two women. "Why couldn't you sit by her?"

"I was sitting here. You stole my seat." She then took the popcorn resting in her lap and passed him the bowl, placing it in his hands. "Here."

His annoyed expression morphed into a grin as he received the popcorn and setting it down in his lap, he grabbed a handful out, shoveling it in his mouth.

Natasha kicked her feet up against the table with a roll of her eyes. She then glanced over her shoulder at the woman sitting on the other end of Clint, eyebrow raised. "What are we watching?" They had each chosen one and from the looks of it, they had narrowed it down to two. Though, she wasn't sure if she believed that since the one not on the coffee table was Clint's and considering the amount of times they watched his movies, she doubted he was out so soon.

Swallowing, Clint grabbed a movie from seemingly nowhere– of course, his movie was still in the game. He flipped around the box to read the words written in bold and then said, "The–"

"No," May said, before he could finish getting the words out of his mouth.

Clint whipped around to her at her immediate denial with a frown. "Why not?" Natasha knew without looking, he was trying to do the puppy-dog eye trick that used to have most of S.H.I.E.L.D thinking he was nothing more than a big lost little kid.

"Because I said no," She replied, not phased by his eyes.

Crossing his arms, he leant back on the couch. "Well, your movie isn't any better." Melinda rolled her eyes at his response and glanced back over at the movies, as did Natasha.

Swiping one of the table, the redhead passed it down the line to where the other woman sat. She took the movie from her hand and scanned the movie front to back. Taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl, Natasha rose an eyebrow. "What about mine?"

"No," Clint said, shaking his head when the movie was passed to him while May smirked. "Horrible choice, Nat."

"Melinda likes it."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out an exasperated sigh. "That's because she said yes, which makes it a no. My movie wins."

"It's a cheesy spy movie."

"Which is why it's perfect," Clint said. They loved pointing out all the flaws, he enjoyed the actual movie, none of them loved those spy movies that uncannily accurate, although there were very few. It was an all around win.

"What about the one where they get drunk and get married in Vegas?" Natasha asked, looking at the two with her impeccable poker face.

At her word, May glanced at Clint, briefly, their eyes meeting for only a split second. "Put yours in."

He smirked, triumphantly, having won the battle once again.

* * *

It was only supposed to be one movie, but one turned into two and…Clint just couldn't get to sleep. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened and he always had to keep his mind occupied until he was tired enough that whatever was going through his mind became irrelevant. Sometimes it worked, other times he ended up skipping sleep that night.

Natasha had gone to bed, knowing how he worked and it was best to let him play through the cycle. Pushing him to go to bed, would only make it worse. May fell asleep on the couch in between the second movie and start of the third. He considered moving her, but he knew her sleep habits weren't much better. So instead he focused on the movie, letting his eyes occasionally drift over to her.

When he heard a soft whimper his head snapped around to the noise as she bolted up on the couch. In a flurry, Clint leaped over to her, grabbing her gently by the arms, causing her eyes to shoot up and lock with his. Brown eyes meeting blue in the darkened room, only lit up by the TV.

Letting go of one arm, Clint stretched up above her head to flip on the lamp sitting on the end table in an attempt to produce more light. Then, without moving from his spot, or taking his eyes away from hers, he stretched his arm back and blindly reached for the remote and once he had it in his hand he clicked off the TV. The movie choice probably wasn't the best for someone just waking from a nightmare, regardless of what it was. Though considering their occupation and knowing her, it wasn't hard to guess.

 _Bahrein_.

She let out a small breath when she saw his familiar face, but despite it, he could still see the haunted look on her face and he didn't let go of her. Instead, brought his right hand back down and took hold of her other arm once again. In any other situation she would kick his ass for handling her in such a way– she wouldn't let him, but not many people caught her in such a vulnerable moment.

"Mels, it's just me. Okay? Just Clint." He ran his hand up her arm as she tucked her legs to her chest, nodding. "You're safe."

"I–"

Unconsciously, a hand trailed up to the side of her cheek and her head turned away from his touch, before sinking in less than a minute later. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't," She said, shaking her head.

Clint's hand fell as a frown formed on his face once again. He felt helpless and he always had, at least when it came to her. He knew how to help Nat; cup of coffee, cold shower, warm blanket, but her…it was the same thing after Bahrein. Pranking didn't work, being himself didn't work, cracking a joke didn't work…everything that used to make her smile didn't work. He had nothing else that he knew that would comfort her, or do anything.

Finally, let out a sigh as he glanced down. "Mels, what can I do?" He prayed she would say something, finally tell him there was something he could do. Not just leave her alone, or say absolutely nothing.

"Stay."

His eyes flew open and he looked up, surprised. "What?"

May didn't repeat herself and he didn't need her to. Clint leant back on the couch and laid his head against the pillows lining the back. After pulling off of her, she slowly began to sit up on the couch. He expected her to stay where she was, propped up against the armrest, but to his surprise, she joined him in leaning against the cushions of the back of the couch. She didn't say a word, didn't even spare him a glance, just let her head settle against the pillows.

When morning came, he was lying flat on the couch with her tucked up against him. He didn't ask how they wound up there, nor did he bother to try and figure it out. As for the first time in a long time, if ever, he had been there for her in the way he should. Just as soon as he looked down at her, she glanced up and their eyes locked.

Giving him a look, she propped herself on one arm and said, "Speak a word of this and I'll break your worst."

A small smile crossed his lips and he relaxed against the couch; nothing she said could erase last night's memory. Or this morning's.

* * *

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